The Downton Abbey Book Club
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Another silly idea, what it sounds like. Roll up for today's Carson/Hughes drabble.
1. Chapter 1

**This is pretty much a mindless drabble inspired by the rambling book-chats my friends and I sometimes have- Sense and Sensibility is one that we tend to ramble about, so credit to Jane Austen. Also very minor idea-pinching from The Remains of the Day, so further credit to Kazuo Ishiguro. Significant lack of plot in this one.**

**The Downton Abbey Book Club**

"What've you two got there?"

Perturbed more by the tone in which the question was asked than the question itself- it was asked by Thomas- Anna looked up from the book she and Gwen were scanning. The footman was followed into the kitchen by Miss O'Brien.

"Nothing." she replied.

Thomas crossed to the table and picked up "Nothing".

"Sense and Sensibility?" he asked, more than a hint of mocking in his tones, "Though I suppose all you can do for either of those round here is read about them."

Naturally, or inexplicably- she couldn't decide which, Anna suddenly felt defensive.

"I think Mrs Hughes is reading it," she proffered, "We found it on the table just here."

"I shouldn't have thought she'd have approved of that," Miss O'Brien remarked, "Lots of young ladies chasing men around, when she keeps us all under lock and key."

"You've read it, then?" Gwen piped up.

"Certainly, I've read it," the ladies maid replied, leaning against the sink, "Who do you think reads the dreary things aloud to her Majesty of an afternoon? Heaven forbid she should have to turn the page."

"The time you lot spend in here wittering, I'm surprised that any of you can read at all!"

All four of them jumped slightly out of their skins as Mrs Patmore reared her head from the oven. She surveyed what she deemed to be a rather motley crew with a wary eye before letting out a heavy sigh.

"However, I wish that girl would witter at least in the vicinity of the kitchen: I'm damned if I can catch her within a mile of the place when there's any work to be done!"

"Here, Mrs Patmore!"

Daisy came clattering into the kitchen in time to save them all from the earth shattering holler that might have followed had she not emerged.

"And about time too, this lot have founded a library in the time you've been gone."

Wrong tactic, Anna thought. Daisy was now peering at the book in Thomas's hands.

"Who's is it?" Daisy asked, puzzled, "It must be Mr Carson; he's the only one who could afford a book like that."

"It's from his Lordship's library, stupid," Miss O'Brien told her.

"We think Mrs Hughes is reading it," Gwen supplied.

This was obviously a satisfactory explanation as Daisy crossed tot he stove, tying her apron without any further questions. Mrs Patmore, however, drew closer to the group and squinted at the book herself.

"It seems a bit strange, dun't it," Gwen continued, "That she left in here not in her pantry?"

A contemptuous snort issued from Mrs Patmore's direction; this was no surprise to any of them.

"You must be joking," she exclaimed, "Half the free time she gets she spends in here; checking that I'm not sticking my nose into that store cupboard!"

Thomas dropped the volume on to the table rather carelessly. It hit the wood with a dull thud.

"Well, why ever she's reading it, she'd better make the most of it while she can," he told them; his usual air of superior knowledge rife.

"How'd you mean?" Miss O'Brien was the one to ask: he obviously had not imparted his wisdom on his partner in crime this time.

"Well, from what I heard, the old lady's trying to stop the girls reading as much."

He was met by four blank faces. Seeming to be exasperated by their stupidity, he continued in a harsh hushed tone.

"She thinks that they're reading too many novels, that's why Lady Mary won't accept Mr Crawley now and throw him over when he gets passed over. Too many romantic notions she said. And then there's all of that odd stuff Lady Sybil's been reading."

"What odd stuff?" Gwen asked, beating Anna to the question, she hadn't noticed any particularly peculiar reading material in Lady Sybil's room.

"You know, all that stuff about uniting the classes... E.M. Forster and the like. Stuff the old lady would have burned if only she could ask one of us to light the torch for her."

Miss O'Brien snorted this time. It was true that Lady Violet could be mildly eccentric at times, but there was no way they would catch Anna agreeing with it, on the off chance that Mr Carson was around the corner.

"If you ask me anything," Mrs Patmore drew her hands to her hips, "If a girl's bound to maintain silly notions, she'll have them no matter what she reads. Just look at that one," she indicated with her head towards Daisy, "I say, just let them get on with it and they'll grow out of it all the sooner."

With that, the cook turned and returned to her stove. Anna picked the book back up and started to dust the layer of flour that now coated it. She did so just in time, Mrs Hughes entered the kitchen just as the last of it was gone.

"Is there some kind of holiday of which Mr Carson has failed to inform me?" she enquired, seeing the four of them still assembled and then added: "Anna, what are you doing with my book?"

_Polishing it,_ she momentarily considered saying but that was too unbelievable.

"Nothing," was what she eventually settled on, handing the book back to the housekeeper.

"Why do you think Mrs Hughes was reading in the kitchen?"

Gwen could ask some odd questions of an evening, Anna reflected. She shrugged her response as best she could while getting into bed.

"Perhaps her sitting room was draughty."

"No, I mean do y'think she does it for the fun or just to pass the time?"

"I doubt it's to pass the time," was the reply after a moments thought, "She does that by checking the lock on that door still works."

She nodded her head in the direction of the male servants' quarters. Both girls smiled at that and then were quiet for a few moments.

"What do you think the book's about?" was Gwen's next question.

Anna, having been made to read the Pride and Prejudice just before she left the village school found that she was able to conjecture.

"Falling in love and getting married, I expect."

Something seemed to be funny in this as Gwen grinned. Anna gave her a questioning look.

"That proves that she doesn't think the stork brings husbands." she pointed out.

Anna laughed at that.

"Do you think it's any good?"

She shrugged in response, but she had enjoyed reading Pride and Prejudice more than she had enjoyed reading the other things they had been allowed to at school. She had showed potential, and as she was trying to secure a place as a maid the schoolmistress had thought it best to allow her to try and read a real book.

"We should read it. In the evenings."

Gwen had evidently taken leave of her senses.

"We get little enough sleep as it is," Anna pointed out.

"Still, it would be fun. We could take it in turns. I want to see what it says about where husbands come from, as at this rate I'll never get to find out for myself."

That was all it took for Anna to roll her eyes and ask for the light to be switched out.

"What are you reading so intently, Mrs Hughes?"

The sound of the butler's voice made her jump slightly. It was true, she had been rather absorbed and hadn't heard his knock at the door. The light was mellow and it softened his silhouette as he stood before her.

"Just some Jane Austen," she replied, rubbing her eyes and setting the book on the armrest of her chair, "Call me a sentimental old woman if you will."

"Certainly not." he replied.

She surveyed him somewhat warily and then said:

"No, I suppose you're far too chivalrous for that."

No." he answered simply, "I'm older than you, so I can't really call you an old woman, can I?"

She could not help but smile at that.

"You could still say I was ridiculously sentimental."

"Who isn't, at times?"

This suddenly intrigued her.

"What do you get sentimental about?" she asked and immediately regretted it; he suddenly had a guarded look about him. She hadn't meant to pry.

He was looking down at his shoes.

"Just...just former days." was the only response that he could manage.

"Things that might have been?" her momentary regret had clearly ebbed away at an alarming rate and she was all willing to push at him again.

He looked at her sharply and she felt herself shrink back into her chair. It had felt like she had done so by the merest fraction but it was obviously visible as his expression softened somewhat.

"Now you _are _being ridiculous." he told her firmly.

_Am I?_

"You're telling me no one's ever come along to... to make you wonder?" It seemed that at some point she had got to her feet, "Maybe even break your heart?"

Why was she asking these things? The words were just out before she could consider or stop them. His face was telling her all she wanted to know, Y_es, but damn it woman, stop trying to ask me about it_. And it was making her sad. Because she knew her face was returning a consoling, _Me too. But mine's you._

Eventually, all he managed to respond was:

"That's service for you, Mrs Hughes," with the accompanying head shake.

" 'What a pity it is,Elinor' said Marianne, 'That Edward should have no taste for drawing.' I feel such fool!"

"This was your idea in the first place!" Anna reminded her, "And I've read the first three chapters, it's your turn now."

"You're much better at it than me," Gwen replied dejectedly.

"Just keep going."

Gwen it seemed, was reading the text to herself before she read it aloud to Anna.

"These two are going on like Lady Mary and Lady Edith," she remarked, "Only Elinor's quieter than Lady Mary is."

"Well, I'll not know until you read the thing to me, will I?"

Gwen scowled before continuing.

" 'No taste for drawing?' replied Elinor, 'why should you think so?'... Do you think Mrs Hughes'll notice we've got this?"

"Well as I asked her if she was finished with it, probably," Anna responded, "And we'll have it for a lot longer if you don't get a move on and read it!"

"Why do you think she doesn't want it any more?"

Anna shrugged.

"Maybe she's read it."

Gwen shook her head.

"I saw it in the library ledger; she's only had it two days, she can't have got through it that quickly."

"Well then," Anna thought, "Maybe it just makes her feel sentimental."

**What did anyone think? More, or leave it?**


	2. Chapter 2

**I've decided to mark the page breaks with numbers as seen as they formatting doesn't seem to be working at the moment. I will try to stop neglecting _The Flood _and _As Bad as Days Get_ once I've finished my exams (after next weekend).**

**1.**

They couldn't have chosen a worse time if they had tried. This said, there was no way that they could have predicted that Mrs Hughes would have walked past at the precise time they chose to stand in the corridor and read it. In fairness to them, the dressing gong hadn't actually been rung when they started, there had been at least four minutes to go. Now, Mrs Hughes stood over them, hands on hips and a fury in her face. Anna was only grateful that, whether she had meant to or not, the housekeeper was still marking where they were up to with her thumb.

"When I said you could read it, I meant outside of working hours," she reminded them sternly.

It was more than Anna's life was worth to point out that working hours seemed to be perpetual anyway. Gwen, however, seemed to have found it most sensible to talk nineteen to the dozen.

"We were just hoping to finish volume two before the dressing gong," she explained, "I like Margaret the best, but she hasn't been in it since they left to go to London. Marianne reminds me of Daisy a little bit, when she's chasing Thomas around that is. That probably makes me Margaret, which is silly really because I'm older than Daisy. Anna's favourite character is Elinor, and I suppose it's because she's quite like her really-..."

Gwen broke off as she realised that both Anna and Mrs Hughes were staring at her. It was quite sweet really how Gwen had been so taken by the story as to form an analogy of it and recite it to Mrs Hughes. The housekeeper's expression had softened considerably.

"Well, be that as it may...-" she began but was cut off by the loud appearance of Mrs Patmore and "Marianne".

"Cor blimey!" was the exclamation, "Are you two still reading that thing? You must have been at it since dawn this morning."

This caused Mrs Hughes to round on her charges with a renewed irritation. Seeing this, Mrs Patmore looked uncomfortable; it caused her great annoyance to unwittingly assist Mrs Hughes in anything, let alone persecuting innocent little creatures like Anna and Gwen.

"Is this true?" Mrs Hughes enquired, eyebrows arching.

They saw Mrs Patmore distracting herself by hastening Daisy to return to the kitchen.

"Certainly it its, I haven't seen them without today."

Trust Miss O'Brien to turn up at that moment and as helpful as ever. Thankfully they were saved by the arrival of Mr Carson.

"Has there been an announcement from his Lordship that female staff aren't to do any work today?" he enquired. Anna saw that Mrs Hughes flushed furiously.

"No, Mr Carson," she replied with formidable steadiness given the present colour of her complexion, "I was just asking Anna and Gwen what on earth they were doing after the dressing gong had been rung." 

"And what on earth were they doing?"

The housekeeper surely had enough blood in her face at that moment to merit a call to the doctor.

"Reading," she replied.

"Reading what, exactly?" he asked, then seem to realise what her concern might be, "Not something rude, I hope."

If it was possible, her flush grew even brighter.

"No," she conceded, "Just Jane Austen."

The butler looked momentarily puzzled, then said:

"Girls, get yourselves upstairs quickly. None of this is doing anything to aid the outstanding fact that you missed the dressing gong."

Anna and Gwen- who in this case knew when they had got off lightly- departed without a further word. As they ascended the stairs, they heard:

"That means you too, Miss O'Brien."

They noted with subtle smiles that the butler had obviously declared it with as imperious a countenance as it sounded he had as Miss O'Brien followed them moments later looking decidedly disgruntled.

**2.**

"It's the very same book I caught you reading yourself, you know," he told her, trying to sound as gentle as he could.

"I know," her reply was mildly defensive.

He handed the copy, which he had been inspecting, back to her.

"I realise that the dressing gong had been rung, but," he considered his approach momentarily and then continued, "They're still learning, especially Gwen. We all make mistakes from to time to time. I know," he added, seeing the mild surprise in her expression, "I'm a fine one to talk. Just remember that you'd rather they slipped up by reading than by chasing Thomas or William around."

She could not deny that and she knew it.

"So long as things like this don't go giving them ideas," she replied, giving the book a slight wave that he could not discern to be affectionate or irritated.

Women could say some very odd things sometimes.

"Such as?"

"Such as that two penniless girls happen to be swept of their feet by two well-meaning, secure men and manage to find happy lives. It doesn't always happen in real life. I could tell them that better than most."

As she said this she looked rather sad. Charles thought back to the last time they had talked like this, he had all but physically pushed her away from him. He looked down at his shoes.

"Mrs Hughes," he began, "I am sorry if I appeared rather...short with you the other night." 

She shook her head.

"You had every right, I was intruding when I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

He felt as if he should offer her something, something to let her know that he hadn't seen it as intruding. But he didn't know what. So he contented himself with smiling rather awkwardly at her as they went their separate ways at the end of the corridor.

**3.**

"I'm sorry I'm late, m'Lady."

Lady Sybil turned and smiled as Anna hurried into the room.

"It's quite all right. Is everything all right downstairs?"

"Everything's fine, m'Lady," she replied quickly organising the dressing table, "Mrs Hughes was just...talking to Gwen and I."

The forced politeness when she referred to the "talk" obviously showed; Lady Sybil smiled at her lap as Anna brushed her hair.

"I sometimes think that in a different life her and Granny could have been best friends. She's always been very kind to me but she does seem to crack the whip at you all. What was it this time?"

It was nice of Lady Sybil to take and interest as she did; Anna found she was often a lot easier to get on with that either of the other two sisters.

"She found Gwen and I reading," she told her, "It sounds a bit silly doesn't it."

"Rather," Sybil agreed, "What were you reading?"

"Sense and Sensibility."

"Oh!" Sybil exclaimed, jumping a little, "I've always loved that one. Edith has never gone in much for Jane Austen ans Mary always said that Pride and Prejudice was more intellectual. What do you think of it?"

Anna thought of Gwen's speech to Mrs Hughes.

"Gwen certainly seems to have taken a shine to it," she told her, "I like it too. It's a nice story."

Lady Sybil was ringing her hands excitedly.

"I must talk to her about it the next time I see her," she said almost to herself, "And I shall tell Mama to ask Mrs Hughes not to be too harsh on you the next time she finds you reading it."

"Thank you, m'Lady."

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	3. Chapter 3

**Shameless ideas and dialogue pinching from The Remains of the Day here. The numbers are acting as breaks in between scenes, as the lines weren't working. Sorry I have been abysmal at updating recently.**

**1.**

"Girls!"

Gwen wheeled around at the sound of the familiar voice. Anna's stomach sank a notch.

"What on earth are you-... oh, I beg your pardon, your Ladyship."

Thank heavens Lady Sybil had been with them, or they really would have been for it this time. Instead Mrs Hughes looked extremely taken aback.

"No, I'm sorry Mrs Hughes." Lady Sybil apologised, "It was thoughtless of me to delay Gwen and Anna. I should have realised that they would have work to do."

Mrs Hughes was bearing down upon all three of them in a distinctly matronly fashion; even Lady Sybil looked rather unnerved. However, the housekeeper seemed to calm herself with a hearty sigh at the frivolity of the young and asked them:

"Surely you've finished the wretched book by now?"

The three of them cast their eyes down upon Sense and Sensibility.

"We're have now," Gwen informed her meekly.

Mrs Hughes evidently the contrast between this and the impassioned performance that Gwen had given the last time such a situation arose, Anna saw her attempt to prevent a smile from breaking. Ever the housekeeper, though, she maintained her sternness.

"Back to work straight away," she instructed, "That is," she added, with a hasty glance towards Lady Sybil, "If your Ladyship agrees?"

"Certainly," was the hasty reply and Anna noted with amusement that Mrs Hughes was obviously appeared as imperious to Lady Sybil as she did to her and Gwen, "As I said before, I only asked Anna and Gwen to read with me because I was as inconsiderate enough to forget their afternoon duties."

"I dare say they won't hold it against you," Mrs Hughes replied wryly as Anna and Gwen rose from their seats. The housekeeper picked up the closed volume of the novel from the table beside the seat that Anna had been occupying. "If your Ladyship would like, I will return this to the library. Before it causes any more trouble."

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes." 

"Never mind, girls," she told them as the three of them filed towards the door, "I'm taking my day off tomorrow; you can read to your hearts content then, so long as you don't let Mr Carson or Miss O'Brien catch you."

**2.**

"You want to read something else?"

Anna found it hard to hide your incredulity.

"Why shouldn't I?" Gwen asked defensively, getting into bed.

"Well, if I remember correctly, we were caught twice by Mrs Hughes and I had to read most of the first volume myself before you would really give it a go."

Gwen mumbled something about just getting used to it. Anna rolled her eyes but still smiled.

"Anyway," Gwen continued, "Do you think Lady Sybil would like to read something else with us?"

That was a puzzling thought.

"What's wrong with just us reading it? Or am I not good enough for you?" Anna asked, feigning mild offence.

"No," Gwen replied, "It's just...interesting to see the way she is with a story like that. I mean..." Gwen's brow furrowed as she wondered how to convey exactly what she did mean, "She could really end up being like Elinor or Marianne. She could actually could have a romance like that. Any of our admirers have to duel with Mrs Hughes to be allowed within a square mile of us."

Not strictly true, Anna thought, as a vague image of Mr Bates swam into her consciousness. She frowned and tried to push it to away. Gwen was watching her as if in concern, but evidently it dispelled as she continued:

"_Do _you think that could happen to her?"

"What a nice man sweep her off her penniless feet?" Anna asked, "That idea's failed before it can even begin."

"Not really," was Gwen's answer, "She won't inherit anyway unless Lady Mary and Lady Edith are wiped out by the plague."

"She's still an Earl's daughter," Anna reminded her, "And I'll bet she's got quite a generous dowry."

Gwen was quiet for a moment.

"That's rather a pity really."

Anna had been lying facing away from her but the near absurdity of this remark forced her to roll over to face her.

"What on earth do you mean by that?" she asked.

"Well," Gwen thought a moment more, "If she's going to be chased after by dukes and lords, poor Branson won't stand a chance."

Anna was hard pressed not to let her mouth gape open.

"I think you're going daft from lack of sleep," she told her, reaching over to switch off the light.

She turned back over and lay there, pondering what Gwen had said. True enough, Lady Sybil was more and more frequently taking the motor when she wanted to go out, but surely there couldn't... could there? Five minutes passed by in the dark.

"You still haven't said what we're going to read next," came Gwen's partially indignant voice.

**3.**

"What are you reading, Mr Carson?"

She didn't know what made her ask the question or where her curiosity came from; all she knew was that she had found herself standing in his pantry on her afternoon off, pressing him to reveal the nature of his reading material. Somewhat understandably, taking this into account, he looked rather disconcerted. He rose from his chair.

"A book, Mrs Hughes."

She received the distinct impression that he was being coy.

"Yes, but what sort of book?"

For the life of her, she couldn't have said why she even wanted to know, only that she felt not the slightest inclination to desist in her questioning. He was eyeing her with caution now. He gave no reply except to move his hand so that it covered the title on the spine.

"A book, Mrs Hughes." 

"Fiction?" 

He nodded his head.

"Fiction," he confirmed.

This response emboldened her to take a step forward.

"Let me see your book."

He said nothing in response. A thought struck her.

"Is it racy?" 

That sure enough got a response out of him. He tried to raise his head cautiously but the movement had a guarded sharpness to it.

"Racy?" he questioned.

"Are you reading a racy book, Mr Carson?"

Her forwardness amazed even her.

"Do you suppose that I would be able to find "racy books" as you so put it, on his Lordship's shelves?"

"I've never had the nerve to look." A blush accompanied her confession.

He seemed to be retreating away from her; cautiously, she took a step forward.

"Let me see your book."

Between consecutive periods of conscious thought she found herself standing directly before him. The book clutched in his hand was all that separated them. She felt his shallow breathing on her forehead as she lifted her hand to prise his fingers from it. An electric current almost shot from him to her as they touched. The book was in her hand but she didn't look at it; she couldn't take her eyes from his face.

The telephone rang. Both almost jumped out of their skins. The copy of Sense and Sensibility fell to the floor with a dull thud. As he passed her to answer it, she felt the proximity of his lips to hers.

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	4. Chapter 4

**1.**

She was still there as he lowered the receiver, that much was obvious; he hadn't heard the door go and- ridiculous as it sounded- he could feel her eyes on him. He could hear the sound of her heavy breathing and indulged in a reverberating sigh himself. As he opened his eyes, he turned because there was only so long that he could put off turning for. Her eyes bore into his and he had to look away quickly; subjecting his shoes to thorough inspection. Thus, he did not notice her advance upon him until she was almost as close as she had been five minutes ago. For a moment they stood like that, not looking at each other or speaking, and then:

"A bit sentimental, isn't it?"

She was talking about the book. Her tone was almost accusing and yet far too gentle to be so. Yes, he supposed it was but he was damned if he was going to admit it. For some reason conceding to the fact would be fatal.

"What do you want, Mrs Hughes?"

His voice conveyed the strain he meant it to and she flinched. There was an awful, buzzing silence for a series of protracted seconds. Her eyes- recovered from their flinching- settled on him again and it became very clear what she wanted.

"If I answer that honestly you'll find me remarkably forward."

She didn't flinch at that. He looked at her slowly and then incredulously. She couldn't be serious and yet he had never seen her wear a more decided expression. No, he couldn't do this now: he couldn't have this conversation with her.

"What frightens you so much, Charles?"

The use of his first name registered. She waited for an answer with an arched eyebrow. What could he say? He didn't even know himself.

"Mrs Hughes," he finally managed, "I think it would be best if you were to leave now." 

In response she folded her arms.

"I don't. I can't." 

Somehow she seemed closer now. What harm would it do?-he thought, what harm to just reach out and kiss her? A great deal too much, was probably the answer. But he still didn't take a step away. Her breathing was all he could hear.

"What do I have to say to make you realise?" she asked him.

He was still looking at his shoes.

"Any day now we could be at war. God only knows what will happen hear, to any of us. Why not be happy now?"

It made a certain sense. Yet he would still rather look at his shoes than at her face; because if he looked at her face he knew he would give in instantly. That doleful, graceful face. The feeling of her hand in his surprised him. He didn't respond at first as she negotiated his thumb to the side but as she wrapped their fingers together he squeezed back.

And then he looked her in the face.

**2.**

"So they've been in there how long together?"

Mercifully, Miss O'Brien spoke in a hushed voice. Anna shrugged.

"Not too long."

The lady's maid raised an eyebrow in a request for precision.

"Oh, all right, about an hour." 

Miss O'Brien almost looked impressed and Anna hurriedly asked in a defensive tone.

"What's it to you anyway?"

"Because he's got a book her majesty's after. If she doesn't have it read to her she wants to invite the old bat over for tea and that's more than me life's worth."

Anna didn't need to ask which book and reflected that if Miss O'Brien did indeed end up charging the door down to retrieve it from Mr Carson, it was Mrs Hughes' own fault for leaving it on the kitchen table in the first place. She hoped but doubted that Mrs Hughes would see it that way. Miss O'Brien was beginning to look severely strained.

"I can't 'ear anything," she remarked.

"Are you trying to listen?" Anna asked, fairly appalled.

"Certainly I am."

She must have seen Anna's expression of mild disgust for she continued:

"You've obviously never had to wait on her in the afternoon when the old lady's around, it's a bloody nightmare."

"I did," Anna replied in a hiss, "At Christmastime when you were pretending to be ill."

"Because you've never done that to escape from the old witch for a day or two."

Apart from anything else, one could scarcely ever hope to escape from Mrs Hughes even when genuinely ill.

"I haven't!"

Amid their furious whispering neither of them noticed the door of the butler's pantry open.

"What's all this?" Mr Carson's voice made them both jump out of their skins.

Miss O'Brien was first to recover.

"Her Ladyship were wondering if she could have Sense and Sensibility this afternoon, Mr Carson. I you're finished with it, that is."

"Certainly, she may."

He handed her the book. As his shoulder moved, Anna caught a glimpse of the room behind him. Unless her eyes were deceiving her, Mrs Hughes seemed to be standing there; a small contented smile on her face.

**End.**

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	5. Chapter 5

**A bit more at the request of CrazyMaryT and CEC1129.**

_And then he looked her in the face._

And he was right, he gave in instantly as she looked dolefully up at him and looked back. Some kind of implicit understanding seemed to pass between them; an answer as rhetorical as her question had been: "_Why not, why not, why not?_"

And yet they did not say anything, not at first: just squeezed each other's hands tightly. Until:

"You know where I stand, Charles. It's up to you now."

The air between them had changed and it had clearly affected her; far from it's previous brashness her tone was quite meek. Her words- what she was telling him- rang in his ears: it was up to him now. This wasn't the time to be reticent.

It was with this thought that, hand still placed firmly in hers, that he kissed her; fully and with vehemence. The gasp she gave made his think that it had knocked the breath out of her. In truth he was almost lifting her off her feet. Realising this, he negotiated them over to the settee and lowered her down. He had meant her to sit but she lay down flat. They were progressing rapidly- his reserve told him- but his libido had no complaints. Cautiously, he lowered himself over her.

"I'm not crushing you, am I?" he asked.

She giggled slightly.

"Yes, but don't you dare stop."

He rolled his eyes.

"Termagant."

She snorted and negotiated her legs so that he rested in the middle. He felt a lump in his throat: rapidly accelerating again.

"Elsie."

His tone was warning. Evidently sensing this she resumed kissing him. He played with her hair, feeling her hands on his wrists as she opened her mouth to him. As they broke off he felt his heart racing. Her cheeks were flushed far from their usual pale. Reserve threatened to rise in him again and he bowed his head. Unfortunately for reticence, that meant his forehead rested on her chest and he heard her gasp. He could not bring himself to raise it.

It registered that somehow his jacket had been removed. Mrs Hughes could always do two jobs at once. Finally he raised his head and propped himself on his elbows. They made a fine sight; her head tipped back and legs hugging him.

"Have you realised how this'll look if someone walks in?" he asked lightly.

"That would be a fine thing since I've locked the door," she replied.

The irony of the way she seemingly kept her poor housemaids under lock and key _away_ from men and then locked herself up _with _one did not escape him.

"That was presumptuous." 

She snorted again.

"We live in the same house as Thomas and Miss O'Brien; damned sensible if you ask me anything."

Looking down on her, her breath still shallow, tightly structured dress undulating as a unit gave him a deep conviction to get her out of it as soon as possible. It must have shown in his face.

"Tonight, Charles." The woman was a mind-reader. "Here, tonight."

She wore a fiendish smile.


End file.
